Remember “A Christmas Story?” Jean Shepherd’s semi-autobiographical film about a 9-year-old kid named Ralphie who wants nothing more for Christmas than a “Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot Range Model air rifle?"

Loads of scenes from the movie have entered into the nation’s popular consciousness. There’s the one where a kid’s tongue freezes to a flagpole. And the one where a distraught Ralphie shouts “fudge” with his dad nearby, though, in the voiceover, Shepherd explains that “I didn’t say ‘fudge.'"

The movie was just 94 minutes long and, in time, has become regarded as a treasured bit of cinematic Americana.

Back in 2009, a musical version of the show opened in Kansas City. A touring version of that show opened Tuesday at the Aronoff Center, presented by Broadway in Cincinnati.

“A Christmas Story, The Musical” is fun. It recreates most of the movie’s memorable scenes. There is a fair amount to like, especially 11-year-old Tristan Klaphake, who brings a congenial mix of innocence and mischievousness to Ralphie. And the same with tiny Evan Christy as his little brother Randy.

The cast is populated with extremely talented kids, especially Wyatt Oswald, who plays a tap-dancing mobster in a dream scene. The girls are an especially ferocious bunch, though a couple of them seem bent on stealing every scene they’re in.

But – you could probably hear a “but” coming – this is not the stage adaptation that Jean Shepherd’s wry and sweetly nostalgic movie deserves. With a couple of exceptions, the music, by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, is unmemorable.

On opening night, “A Christmas Story, The Musical” ran roughly 135 minutes. Part of that was an intermission. But what was once a quirky and charming movie that barely cracked the hour-and-a-half mark is now a stage production that rumbles past two hours and keeps going.

I don’t want to get too very serious about this, but it’s as if Joseph Robinette, who adapted Jean Shepherd’s story to the stage, didn’t have faith in the material. What was underplayed and charming in the movie is now loud and screechy and filled with cheapened sentiment.

I have nothing against sentimentality. I’ve always got tissues nearby when I go to the theater. But the wryness and the understatement that has helped “A Christmas Story” to remain so popular 35 years after it was released is nowhere to be found in this production.

I don’t think it’s the performers’ fault. Presumably, director Matt Lenz encouraged Chris Carsten, as Shepherd, to shout a lot. The same with the kids. Yes, the Aronoff’s Procter & Gamble Hall is a big place. But in this age where all the actors wear wireless microphones, even the quietest dialogue should be easily audible.

Most of the people in the audience seemed to have a good time on opening night. But Jean Shepherd and “A Christmas Story” deserve a better production than this one.